


Bolt From the Blue

by stargatefan_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-07
Updated: 2003-01-07
Packaged: 2018-10-07 04:35:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10352376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargatefan_archivist/pseuds/stargatefan_archivist
Summary: SPOILERS : Minor ones only - Crossroads springs to mind.SUMMARY : Season four. SG-1’s untimely return and a problem with the iris bode ill for one member of the team in particular, but they’re all having a pretty rough time of it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

Bolt From the Blue

##  Bolt From the Blue

##### Written by Kaz   
Comments? Write to us at [karinstaines@freenet.co.uk](mailto:karinstaines@freenet.co.uk)

  * SPOILERS : Minor ones only - Crossroads springs to mind. 
  * SUMMARY : Season four. SG-1's untimely return and a problem with the iris bode ill for one member of the team in particular, but they're all having a pretty rough time of it. 
  * PG [A] [D] [HC] 



* * *

****

~ Jack ~

"Close the iris."

It's a whisper that should have been a shout. The volume is stripped from Daniel's voice as he gasps for breath, dropping to his knees, the near-dead weight of me easily taking him down.

I slip from his grasp, landing sideways on the ramp with a dull clang that reverberates simultaneously through my thigh, my shoulder and my skull. My vision wavers as I squint up at him, watching as he rocks back on his heels, panting heavily.

Thought we'd outrun our luck this time for sure.

Thank God for pigmy aliens and long-legged archaeologists!

The rippling blue-white glow behind him gradually fades as the iris shuts it out, cutting us off from the hostile peoples of the world beyond the 'gate. Can't happen soon enough as far as I'm concerned. But even my pain-dazed mind determines there's something not right… the metal plates are taking too long to slide into position… or *is* it my assaulted brain causing the distortion?

Creaking and grinding, the iris sounds distinctly unhealthy, and I'm sure now that it's not just an aberration. Someone, for Christ's sake, get that damned thing closed!

Good ol' Doc Fraiser puts in a welcome appearance, probing, questioning, as always. I'm not really up to it at the moment, all things considered. I need to see what's going on with my team… they're more important to me than whether I can focus correctly, or if I can understand what she's saying to me.

Twisting my head to look away from the fatigued statue that is Daniel, I see Teal'c getting to his feet with help, looking several stages beyond crap, but hey, he's up and moving under his own steam. Gotta love Junior for that. Carter's another story… being lifted onto a gurney, the mother of all concussions adulterating her usually fresh complexion, her limbs completely without coordination. Please, God, let that fantastic mind be intact.

Fraiser is not going to let me escape her scrutiny, carefully turning my head back where she needs it. Does she really want me to see her frowning at each of my injuries again? I know it's not good without that, thanks.

My attention is suddenly stolen by a fluctuation in the small shimmering circle of what is still exposed wormhole, and something tears though just seconds before the iris finally covers the event horizon. The control room guys' timing officially sucks!

Instantly, I recognize the deadly object. I should… enough of them came my way as we raced toward the 'gate. I think more than one made contact too, and several body parts chorus their concordance with that realization.

I try… God knows I try… to warn him. Daniel!

The words don't come. My throat constricts… as sealed as the damned wormhole is now, but too late. Too f***ing late! Daniel…

A scarlet shower splashes over me and I slam my eyelids together, blocking out the view of my friend as he's knocked forward by the impact. If only I could have defended my ears from that dreadfully pained yelp…

When after what seems like forever, I manage to crank my eyes open again, I'm looking straight into Daniel's wide, unblinking… God, unseeing?… gaze.

No!

No… I calm myself. Not dead… he's not dead. Daniel's eyelashes finally flutter, and his fingers twitch at the end of an arm stretched out toward me.

Reaching unsteady digits of my own across to him, they barely brush against his knuckles before we are torn apart by intervening hands. I catch a last glimpse of fear-filled blue orbs and then my line of sight becomes obstructed by medical personnel. They don't mean any harm by getting in my way, they're doing their jobs… have to… because, basically, I failed mine.

Unable to differentiate one hurt from another, all I'm aware of is the sudden withdrawal of Fraiser's touches. I've been left with her subordinates. While that tells me something encouraging about my own prospects of survival, it equally demonstrates how badly off Daniel must be. Damn it!

All down… my whole team felled. We'd known about Teal'c's and Carter's injuries before Daniel dialed us out, just as they were all aware of mine. Teal'c carried Carter's unconscious figure to the open portal. The sweat on his brow from what would normally have been such an effortless task, bearing as much of a clue to the extent of his wounds as the browny-red wetness of his shredded jacket.

Just for the record, I'm pissed as hell that I have no idea what caused the natives to turn against us. Daniel had barely gotten past 'hello' when things went ape. Carter was taken out by a hail of rock, then the little buggers were all over Teal'c, ripping and slashing, until he managed to shake them off. There didn't seem to be any way of placating them, so we turned tail and ran. Woefully outnumbered and hindered by the injuries sustained on first contact and picked up en route, we were damned lucky to make it back to the Stargate.

Daniel had darted from his place behind the DHD to haul me up and pull me backwards, sideways, every goddamned ways it seemed, to get my sorry ass up the steps and through the Stargate. All despite my orders to the contrary, of course… when will he ever listen to me?

But he'd made it… dodged the missiles they fired at us … and got me here, safe if not wholly sound.

The small measure of comfort I'd taken from one of us getting home unscathed has now been ripped from me in a cruel and merciless fashion.

Increasingly frantic activity around Daniel's unmoving form chills every cell in my body. I really need to see what's happening… because from the very few words I've caught drifting from his direction, I'm getting some seriously bad vibes. I've heard Fraiser at the end of her tether before and I'd say she's pretty close to losing hold of it altogether right now. Shit.

Trying to get up, get closer, a sudden rush of adrenaline energizes me and I strain against the medics. I'm a colonel, get out of my way, Goddamnit!

My feeble thrashing is thwarted by a heavy hand.

"Easy, Jack." General's orders. "Let them do their work." Hammond's palm rests upon my shoulder. The pressure of it fades once I've quieted. To be honest, I'm spent. The spark of animation goes back from whence it came.

My eyes find Daniel's body again, Janet still hovering over him. Maybe she can feel my stare boring into her back, because she turns her head to look at me. Her brief nod accompanied by a piss-poor attempt at a smile tells me Daniel is a long way short of being okay, but he's hanging on.

'Look after him,' I silently delegate my duty to her. Someone needs to. I didn't do such a great job of it today.

I'm shuttled from ramp to stretcher to gurney, faces around me beginning to blur.

Then the lights above me start to slide and I can't look at the nauseous effect any longer. In my own personal darkness, the soft surface beneath me buffers my weary frame from the jostling.

There's only time to pray the doc and her crew can save my team… my kids… before the dashing, trundling noises sweep away my hold on reality. Silence creeps up and consumes my link to consciousness with relentless force, and I have neither the strength nor the will left to stop it.

 

****

~ Sam ~

Jolted awake by what I guess must have been a rather less than ceremonious dumping onto the ramp, icy steel jabs at every vertebra, and the sirens blast through my eardrums, escalating the pounding in my head to an excruciating level.

Lazily, I let my head roll and I can see Teal'c… two of him, actually… the instrument of my impromptu ride home. His frame is unusually sagged, using the side rails to keep himself upright. I know it isn't just the effort of bringing me home that has caused his frailty. I just hope the added burden of carrying me hasn't been too much and Junior can work its charms on my friend again to rejuvenate that imposing figure, so I can thank him for saving me.

Concerned features blur momentarily in front of my eyes until I can focus the image better… 'Hi, Janet,' I blink at both of her.

"That's it, Sam. Can you hear me?"

'Yep,' I nod. God, I wish I hadn't done that. Or has someone just stuck a pickaxe through my skull?

"Good."

For you maybe, Jan… you try being on my side of this conversation…

What? No more questions? Doesn't she want to know what happened? Has Teal'c already told her? No, there hasn't been time, surely… Anyway, I'm not sure if I could answer such a question. I don't remember much after the first projectile whizzed past, well not past exactly… the proverbial parting of hair would be more accurate. I think it must have impacted the rock behind me, shattering it into sharp chunks. Then I was falling, shards slicing into me. Stars… I distinctly saw stars… when, I guess one of the larger pieces smacked against the back of my head.

After that, big gaps of blessed darkness came, interspersed by short flashes of pain filled awareness. The backs of Teal'c's boots from my vantage point of being slung over his broad shoulder. Daniel's face bobbing up from behind the DHD as he punched the symbols for home between the volleys leveled at him. The colonel losing his footing as the onslaught found one of its targets.

Teal'c carried me into the wormhole and I saw Daniel scoot out from his cover. I know what he was going to do… did he make it? God. I feel sick. Though whether that's my head injury making its presence felt or the worry for my overdue team mates, I can't decide. Where are they?

"They're here," Janet says before she scurries over to Teal'c, relief coloring her voice. Bless you, Jan… did you know what I was thinking?

Fighting to see past the corpsmen assembling my out-flung limbs into a reasonable order for transportation, I get a glimpse of the colonel lying in front of the 'gate. Daniel is kneeling to his side, gasping from running the gauntlet, shaken, exhausted, but safe…

Is it just me, or are the iris slats closing more slowly than they should? Way too slowly… Why haven't they called me to the control room?

I'm being carried again. My head throbs ruthlessly as I crane round to stay with my team mates for as long as possible.

Janet is with the colonel now. A medic is helping Teal'c to his feet and Daniel hasn't moved. The weariness on his face gives way to the briefest sparkle of a grin as I catch his eye, but an out of place ripple in the event horizon of the still open wormhole steals my attention, and I nearly fall from the stretcher as I lurch to warn him. "D…" the croak that sticks in my throat is useless.

No!

Daniel is thrown to the ramp by the impact from behind, blood spraying like gory confetti around him. The smile vanishes as quickly as it had blossomed. The twinkle in his eyes rapidly replaced by shock and his mouth uttering agony.

He'd made it. He'd beaten them. This isn't fair!

The medics temporarily halt our exodus while they secure me tighter to the stretcher, apparently spooked by my near-tumble. The delay allows me to watch Janet pull the projectile from Daniel's back. Sickening awareness crashes over me even through my bruised brain's stupor. She wouldn't be doing that here unless…

My stomach heaves in unison with Janet's harsh rhythm of resuscitation, and finally giving in to the nausea assailing it, my semi-digested breakfast lands on the floor in a splattery puddle of foulness.

Oh God, Janet, get him back… for me… for all of us…

I turn to where I last saw Teal'c and frighteningly witness him sinking to the floor between the general and the medic, the possibility of defeat visibly weighing heavily on him.

Unhinged by Teal'c's collapse, my restless eyes search for the colonel and find him in combat with his medics… as crazed with injustice and helplessness as Teal'c is debilitated by it and my body unwittingly sympathetic with it.

Thankfully, the general seems to be calming him. I just hope he hasn't hurt himself further.

Seeing my stomach contents has spurred the corpsmen into getting me to treatment quicker. They load both stretcher and me onto a gurney, and then I'm heading for the doorway once more.

Don't! I want to stay. Please let me stay. I have to see what's going on.

They're my team, my friends.

Don't take me away.

I have to see…

I need to know…

I have to…

 

****

~ Teal'c ~

"Daniel Jackson," I gasp.

"Go, Teal'c!" he shouts, his head rising up from behind the DHD for an instant as his hand slams down on the crystal. "Take Sam. I'll get Jack."

He is confident. As am I. I believe he will achieve the formidable task he has set for himself. Contrary to my upbringing, where scholars were to be protected, not those protecting, Daniel Jackson has proven time and again that his tenacity will see him prevail. Assured, I reestablish my grip on my charge.

The wounds I have received burn fiercely with every footfall, but I must reach past my pain to deliver Major Carter to the SGC as swiftly as my injured body will allow, and trust that Daniel Jackson will do the same for O'Neill.

Home is but a step away. A home I chose for myself, with a family I accept as my own, though there are no ties of flesh or blood to bind us. The chill of the wormhole sweeps through me, fatigue tugging at my muscles, but duty wins over my need to rest.

We are met by the familiar clamor of sound… wailing claxons, stampeding boots, rifles being readied, while the beacons blaze intermittent crimson blushes against the overwhelmingly gray walls.

I can support Major Carter's lax form no longer. Staggering like a newborn foal, I try not to let her slip from my grasp, but fail. Her boots clang loudly as they land on the metal below and the rest of her follows inelegantly to sprawl across the ramp.

Barely managing two more steps before my backside hits the grills, I hear General Hammond's call go out for medical assistance, and I hope for an expedient compliance.

The symbiote within my belly stirs restlessly as it determines which of the injuries I have sustained pose the greatest threat to its well-being. I am used to this feeling. I have yet to work out whether the larva is prudent by ensuring its own continuance first in order to better heal what else has been done to me, or if it is pure selfishness on its part. My hatred of the Goa'uld and all they represent would lead me to conclude the latter, however I would be dead several times over already if it were not for the remarkable powers the damnable creature can extol to regenerate my body.

I hear the bittersweet noise of four boots scampering a few feet toward me, but they stop short, ending with a sharp grunt as one thud vibrates through the gratings and a deep sigh as two knees seek uncomfortable refuge on the ramp.

Doctor Fraiser confirms my assumption. Daniel Jackson and O'Neill have returned.

The doctor wishes me to lie down, but I think I can make it to the infirmary without the indignity of being carried. My back no longer aches from bearing Major Carter, and now the added burden of my missing friends has been resolved, my spirits are lifted once more.

Leaving me to the capable hands of one of her medics, Doctor Fraiser briskly goes to O'Neill. He, I know, needs her help far more than I.

Thankful as I am for the aid in getting me to my feet, and the solid support that assists my progress toward the doorway, I am reluctant to leave just yet. There are still unanswered questions concerning my friends' welfare.

"How are you, son?" the general asks, in that fatherly manner I have come to admire and appreciate so much.

"I will be well, General Hammond," I say boldly, but after a moment's consideration for my current state of health, add, "Given time."

A sudden whoosh draws our respective gazes to the source of the sound, just in time to see the cause streaking from the Stargate and slamming into Daniel Jackson's back. Completely unprepared for the attack, he gives voice to his suffering as he is knocked over, landing heavily alongside O'Neill, crimson rain falling around him.

No!

We were home… it should be safe here. Childish thoughts, I know. My one hundred and three years have taught me that no haven is truly secure, but even a Jaffa may dream. My sanctuary has been defiled.

I take an unsteady step toward the ramp, but General Hammond gently restrains me and I know he is right to hold me back… I would be in the way. Already Doctor Fraiser has curtailed her assessment of O'Neill's injuries to go to Daniel, and several other medics have descended upon my friends.

My heart begins to race when it becomes all too apparent Doctor Fraiser is struggling with Daniel Jackson's condition. I feel light-headed, splaying my arms in the hope of snagging some purchase with which to halt my wilting stance. General Hammond helps the young medic ease me to the floor, exchanging perturbed expressions, unsure of how to treat my present fragility.

O'Neill is becoming agitated, battling against those who would help him, no doubt in a desperate attempt to be at his friend's side. General Hammond sucks in a deep breath and goes to him. I'm sure in his wisdom he will find the right words to comfort our distressed leader.

With spiraling dread, I am drawn to watching the disquieting bustle of activity in front of the Stargate.

The Stargate… I regard the ancient monument coolly and am reminded of something Daniel Jackson once told me when explaining various marriage customs of different religions… the exchanging of rings to signify eternal unity. The stone ring towering over us is such a symbol to me. It is what bonds us. It brought us together, and ultimately I am sure, one day it will break us apart.

I fear that time comes ever closer.

I hope with all my heart Doctor Fraiser and her personnel will ensure that today is not that day.

 

****

~ Janet ~

I've only just thought how unusually quiet things are down in my neck of the woods when the alarms go off. I should have known better than to start thinking that!

No one is due back yet, but until I get a call announcing an emergency, there's no need to panic. Might be the Tok'Ra, or the Asgard, or one of our other friendly, not-so-near neighbors coming to visit… then again… SG-1 deployed about two hours ago, to a planet where the UAV failed to complete its sweep and there was evidence of Goa'uld influence.

Mentally calculating the odds, I don't like what my brain's coming up with.

There it is. Oh, God. Multiple casualties… so I round up as many corpsmen as I can and herd them down to the 'gate room.

Teal'c is obviously hurt, but he's conscious and aware, and has a built in advantage when it comes to taking care of his person. Sam, on the other hand, is lying flat on her back, not moving at all. It's not a hard call to decide which of them I should attend to first.

Sam's pretty battered. Grazes and bruises showing through the tatters of what was once a presentable uniform.

"Sam?" I call and watch the reaction. Well, she's looking more or less in my direction and she is trying to focus on me. A start. "That's it, Sam. Can you hear me?"

Although the movement is slight, definite nodding responds, though she looks as if she'd rather not have made the effort.

"Good."

I'll wait until I talk to Teal'c to find out what happened to them, I don't think Sam could formulate a coherent answer right now.

I run my hands over her limbs, there doesn't seem to be anything broken. Her hair is matted with blood at the back. Carefully, I probe underneath, making sure I don't twist her neck, finding a very large bump, and my hand comes back out stickily red. I'm worried she has a skull fracture and I want her moved to the infirmary as soon as possible.

Nodding at the corpsmen standing ready at her feet, I rise and start to go to Teal'c, but as I do, two harried figures emerge from the wormhole, entwined together in a vision of desperation, until Colonel O'Neill topples onto the ramp and Doctor Jackson falls to his knees alongside him.

I don't think Sam is aware they've come through, but she'll want to know. "They're here," I say, sparing just enough time to give her that information, before continuing over to Teal'c. I've not seen him looking so spaced-out since Shau'nac's death.

"Everything okay here?" I ask both medic and patient at once. I trust Teal'c to tell me if the symbiote was harmed in some way that wouldn't allow it to heal him, but he's still shaky and needs cleaning up if nothing else. As expected, the Jaffa denies the need for assistance, the corpsman is looking more uncertain. He's new here… hasn't yet witnessed SG-1's propensity for recovery. Boy, is this kid in for a surprise… or two. The rest of us know Teal'c's not the only one with greater than average resilience.

Well, Teal'c won't take the easy way to the infirmary. If he's going to be stubborn and walk, the medic will just have to supervise instead.

The colonel most definitely needs my help, but I've barely begun my examination of him when a sharp cry offends my ears and I get a smattering of warm droplets across my cheek. I rub them off on my shoulder and see the dark smear staining my coat.

No!

Daniel's down. Something must have come through the 'gate… though it's closed off now, so I presume there's no further threat from that quarter. Wouldn't matter if there were… my place is here.

I take a quick glance back at the colonel. He's badly injured, bleeding from numerous wounds… his left shoulder, right arm and both legs. There looks to have been different sizes of projectile. The thicker ones are still embedded in his flesh while thinner ones seem to have passed right through. None by themselves particularly life-threatening, but altogether… Miraculously, he seems stable enough for me to leave him in the care of my staff. I direct two of my most experienced medics to take over for me here and snag another to help me with Daniel.

There's the darndest thing… I'd swear the colonel and Daniel were reaching out to each other. Before I have chance to consider leaving them in contact, O'Neill's arm is pulled away, into line with his body, and he murmurs some sort of protest at the medic who did it.

Kneeling beside Daniel, I get my first good look at what I've got to deal with. There's one of those thick metal bolts sticking out of Daniel's back.

"No pulse," I'm told. Well, I'm not all that surprised given the projectile's position… too close to his heart… even if it's actually missed, there's no way we can do CPR with that thing in there like that. My hand closes around the protrusion of smooth cylinder and I pull, hoping that there're no barbs on the other end to make things worse. Worse? Irreparably worse… Mercifully, it comes out cleanly, not counting the slick coating of blood.

The hole is deftly plugged by one of my assistants as I toss the evil missile to one side and I hear Daniel's voice in my head complaining how it might be a vitally important artifact. Frankly, if it's from a culture that has tried to kill him and the rest of his team, I'd rather have nothing to do with it. He can moan all he likes… I'll be only too happy to hear his arguments… *when* we've revived him.

Turning the unresponsive body over, I lean into the compressions for all I'm worth. You're not going to die on my watch, Doctor Daniel Jackson. You hear me?

Eventually, our efforts pay off. He's back with us. I wipe the sweat from my face onto my sleeve and take a good look at the fruits of our labors… a living - if somewhat falteringly, breathing - if somewhat shallowly, Daniel Jackson. I'm not greedy… I'll take the little we've been granted and run with it. My main concern now is were we fast enough?

I can almost feel Colonel O'Neill's gaze burning into my back. It's always the same when one of his kids is sick. They all do it, actually. That's how deep the team spirit runs between this bunch.

Turning, I show him we're winning for the moment. Let's get this show on the road before our… their… luck gives out.

General Hammond steps aside as we pass, his round face distressed as his gaze leaves the disappearing trolley bearing his 2IC and finds our charge. I'm keeping my fingers pressed in against Daniel's neck, ready for any signs of further problems. "We're going to need some help," I tell my commander, though I suspect he's already reached that conclusion.

"Whatever you need, Doctor," he doesn't hesitate to grant my request.

"Page Doctor Warner, and I'll need at least two extra nurses from the emergency roster," I call, not stopping.

"I'll get right on it," he says and strides away, looking better for having a purpose.

"Let's move people," I hustle my staff toward the waiting elevator.

It's going to be a long day…

 

 

****

~ Hammond ~

I should have stayed retired… at least then the only paperwork I had to deal with was Tessa's math homework and the never-ending supply of Kayla's drawings.

This pen almost writes my signature itself and I drop yet another report into the 'out' tray. I wonder whose eyebrows that one will raise the highest. One thing I've learned from this command is that there are two levels of 'top secret' and one of them I would rather not know existed.

My eyes have just settled on the next offering under my nose when the offworld activation call comes through. I look at the clock, mentally checking who's where and when they *should* be checking in… no one is due. Damn.

By the time I've reached the control room, they've only just received the GDO code. That delay is not good news. For SG-1 to be coming back so soon and with erratic operating procedure leads to the discomfiting conclusion that they've met with some problems. The only question is… how bad?

Teal'c's boot emerges from the event horizon, quickly followed by the rest of him and the body draped over his shoulder… is Major Carter. Copious amounts of blood cover both of their uniforms. Oh. *That* bad…

I tell the technician to put the call out for medical assistance and let my feet hurry me down to the 'gate room to meet whatever calamity has befallen my number one team.

Teal'c has deposited Sam some way down the ramp and hasn't made it much farther before collapsing too. For that man to be displaying signs of weakness, I know his injuries must be severe. My hand goes to his shoulder and I smile as reassuringly as I can at this point. The organized hullabaloo at the embarkation room's massive doors signals the arrival of the medics. 

I quickly take a moment to stoop over Sam, before moving aside when the doctor and her crew arrive. They need access to her damaged body. I am simply grateful to see those stunning eyes of hers opening and closing… telling me she's still with us.

She seems to be responding to Doctor Fraiser's questions and I clutch at the welcome extra cheer that knowledge brings.

But there are still two of the team missing. Where the hell are they?

As if in answer, they suddenly emerge from the Stargate, wrapped up together like their lives depended on it. A fair assumption of what they've just been through, I imagine. I can't quite hear what Doctor Jackson has just said, but I've a pretty good idea. The iris is already beginning to close, so 'gate techs must have done their lip reading too.

Fraiser has given Teal'c a quick once over. He seems to be much more in control now and I can guess the reason why... The team is all back. I know how relieved he feels.

She doesn't seem overly concerned… leaving a medic to guide him to the infirmary. Though it looks bad, I presume it's nothing the symbiote and a little Kel'no'reem can't sort out.

There's definite worry on her face as she begins working over Jack, though.

What's wrong with the iris? It should've sealed the wormhole by now. I look up to the control room, seeing frantic gestures and earnest endeavors to expedite the protective barrier's progress. There's nothing I can do in that department. I have to leave it to the experts. They know the stakes. Shouting at them to 'Goddamn hurry the hell up!' won't do any good. So I just say it to myself instead.

Not quick enough. Something's coming. Almost in slow motion, the slender object crosses the short distance from the Stargate to Doctor Jackson. Sam's distraught trickle of sound goes unnoticed amid the confusion of personnel, and is a mere whisper in my mind compared to the distressed noise from the latest casualty.

The metallic thud as he slams onto the ramp sends a shudder right through me too.

No!

What were the odds of a rogue shot like that hitting anything? If only the iris had been working properly…

Teal'c staggers in the vague direction of the ramp. I can't let him up there. Disturbingly, my hand is all it takes to halt his progress, and the medic and I ease the big man to the floor, where he sits, vacantly staring where his heart wishes him to be.

What's that old adage about going from bad to worse? I wish there were something I could do, instead of standing here watching all the drama unfold. Major-Generals may wield a goodly amount of power, but in the grand scheme of things we're a rather useless old bunch. Guidance is about the only gift I have to offer, and maybe a phone call or two to the right person when it matters… *if* I'm allowed to get through.

There's been a reshuffle of medical ranks as Doctor Fraiser's expertise is required to assist with Doctor Jackson. That necessity deepens my anguish at least ten-fold. In the blink of an eye he's gone from being the only one of the team without injury, to the one apparently in most desperate need of life-saving attention.

Jack will have a tough time with that. Maybe he already is… Jack hides behind a façade of dim-witted glibness, but he's cleverer than he lets on, and he takes his responsibility for his team very seriously. Looks like the medics have got a fight on their hands.

Perhaps there's something I can do after all.

I go and lay my hand on his shoulder. "Easy, Jack." Almost immediately, he stills. "Let them do their work." Currently, that appears to involve extracting the missile which downed the young man, not normally an exercise to be undertaken outside of an operating room, and I don't want to think about what that means.

Unfortunately, I have a birds-eye view of exactly what is happening and while I'd rather not see, I have to know…

Doctor Fraiser's shoulders slump and I begin to steel myself for the worst kind of news. But, no, a grim smile adorns her face as she nods down at Jack. She's pulled the boy through… again… for now…

Thank God. And I do so for all of them.

Crisis abated, however temporarily, the last two gurneys roll toward the elevator at speed. Following until my path has to proceed in a different direction,

I hasten back to my office to make the necessary calls to bring in the extra people Fraiser has requested. There was no question as to whether I should, I know she wouldn't ask needlessly, I just wish the situation wasn't so dire. If only the iris had functioned properly, maybe it wouldn't be. Which reminds me, I had better check what's happening in the control room.

Then it's merely a choice of where to wait for news. The infirmary will be too busy; my office will be too quiet, and I'll never be able to concentrate on the tedium of paperwork until I know how they all are. Perhaps I'll see what the commissary has to offer. Some people smoke when their anxious, some drink. I eat. It's a good job my granddaughters love having a cuddly grandpa…

 

 

****

~ Daniel ~

Whoa! What the hell happened?

One minute I'm on the ramp, trying to suck in air that's not filled with smoke or dust or the stench of blood, grateful for the mixed blessing of harsh steel scraping my knees. The next, I'm lying here with my chest harboring the all too familiar ache that tells me I'm lucky to be alive.

Then it all comes back to me in not so glorious Technicolor… Jack, Sam, Teal'c all wounded. The ramp seemingly awash with their blood and a sea of medical staff drowning them from my view. Sam's panicked expression was the only warning I got that something was amiss, before I was capsized and everything tipped sideways, my back alight with pain, my cheek bruised from the force of going down hard.

Stunned, I saw Jack's eyes finding mine… his fingers touching mine, saying, 'We're here. We're safe. Stay.'

Gone.

Our respective medics thought they knew what was best for us. They didn't have a clue.

No!  


I screamed at my failing heart. I wasn't ready. Had no choice.

Squeezing my eyes shut at the memory of my body refusing to listen, I guess someone must have heard my plea, made it right.

"Doctor Jackson?"

The voice draws my flickering gaze. I know I shouldn't be surprised that it's not Jack or Sam or Teal'c in the chair beside my bed, and a sudden icy splinter of fear stabs my wavering consciousness as I realize I don't know if the repairs made to them were as apparently successful as those performed on me.

General Hammond's quietly deep drawl allays my qualms. "They're all fine, son," he says and his hand on my arm is as comforting as his words. He knew what I needed to know.

It took some time for me to reach an understanding with this man, but it was worth it. In all the peoples we've come across in our travels, the military minds of our own world are perhaps the most truly alien to me. There are times when General Hammond or Jack or Sam have to act contrary to my wishes because of their duty, but they've all had the courage to stand against that which should govern their thinking when the stakes have been too high to comprehend.

I manage to squint at the other occupied beds enough to see my friends are all accounted for. Every one of them has a monitor beeping as rhythmically as mine, but we're not quite in time with each other. And I ponder on the fact that those slightly offbeat blips are pretty much an analogy of how we function on a day to day basis. They each have their own pace, but every once in a while they come together to sound out loud and strong.

Recently it seems we've been more out of sync than in… skipped a few beats along the way… but we're still here, we still work as a team, the ride's just a little rougher, is all.

I suppose it sometimes takes a bolt from the blue to make you recognize what's important.

"You had us worried for a while. Actually, you all did…" Hammond's concern is evident in his voice and shows on his tired features. I have no concept of how long we've been back, but it certainly looks like it has been a while.

Hoping the taut muscles of my face show a smile, it's the closest I can get right now, anyway; and as I can't yet summon the energy to think of anything to say, it's the best I can do by way of thanks to him for being there for us… plugging the gap none of us could fill for the others.

"Get some rest now, Daniel," Janet Fraiser calls softly.

How long has she been standing there? It looks as if her shift was a lot longer and more fraught than it should have been too. Sorry, Janet. Still, this time it wasn't just me… and I take no comfort from that thought whatsoever.

It doesn't seem as if I have much of a choice in what to do next, my eyes are closing already and without any artificial coaxing. My body finds it's own level of relaxation, succumbing to the tiredness from its ordeal.

At least I've seen everyone else is still here, at least I know they’re all okay… we all are… will be… soon…

**The End**

  


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> AUTHOR'S NOTES : Many thanks to Carrie for beta-ing this one and helping to form it into something readable. This was supposed to be ready in time for International Team Week -  
> failed to meet that miserably! So I've posted to celebrate Daniel's birthday instead.  
> 

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>   
> © July 8, 2002 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp.  
> The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters  
> who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names,   
> titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and   
> solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.   
> 

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